First Love
by Artemisdesari
Summary: Post season 6, set directly after Castiel's ultimatum. Dean has to find a way to save Cas while dealing with the feelings brought up during First Kiss. Sequel to First Kiss, Dean/Castiel
1. Chapter 1

_So, after much begging and demanding I've gotten the first chapter of this one out earlier than I thought I would. This story was planned for a while, but I needed a platform to launch it off and First Kiss provided that. It's not absolutely necessary to have read that before reading this, the basics will be covered, but it will help a great deal. Season six spoilers within, obviously. Also, Sera Gamble's hubris has made me very angry this week. _

**_Disclaimer:_**_ I'm not Sera Gamble and therefore I haven't totally screwed up Castiel (who is most certainly _not_ a redundant storyline thank you very much). I'm just borrowing the boys so that I can make it better until she screws us over again. I'll give them back later, when my fic is finished and I've fixed them enough to satisfy me a little. It will be reluctantly done but I will._

First Love.

"_**I'm not an angel any more. I'm your new god, a better one. So you will bow down and profess your love unto me, your lord, or I shall destroy you**."_

Dean listens to Castiel's words with increasing horror, sees the way that his brother's face twists with a similar concern and fear. Beside him he knows that Bobby is reacting the same way. This is not what Dean had expected to happen, but this is exactly what he had feared would happen. The power that Castiel has absorbed is too much, too tempting, and he fears that he has lost his friend entirely.

"You don't want this, Cas," he tries to reason with the angel again, even though his entire being is screaming at him to run or to fall to his knees. He has to try, however, he has to make a final attempt to get Cas back, to find awkward angel that he knows and cares about.

"You can't tell me what I _want_, Dean," Castiel's tone is completely calm, almost peaceful even, but Dean knows that there is an anger and resentment boiling just beneath the surface. For the first time he asks himself why he did not listen to the angel's explanations. For the first time he wonders if things would have been different had he not been so stubborn.

It is too late now, though, too late to apologise and too late to make Castiel understand.

"You're right, I can't," Dean admits, "but I'm not just saying this. It has nothing to do with you winning or losing. You were right, the souls have given you everything you needed to beat Raph. I just don't want the cost to be my friend. I'm not thinking about everyone else, Cas, I'm thinking about you."

"No, Dean, you're not," there is still that eery calm to his face, a peace that is all an illusion. "You're thinking about you. Everything has become about you and what you want, Dean. Your selfish desires and your need for all others to follow where you lead."

The resentment in his friend's voice makes all the hope in Dean shatter. His angel, his friend, his saviour is gone; replaced by a high powered being with a serious god complex. The weight of everything is now beginning to crash in on him. It is a mass of emotions and lies, betrayals and hurt feelings, love and anger and loss and agony, all starkly brilliant and all overwhelming.

He had called Castiel 'friend', called him 'family' and both sentiments were the absolute truth, but he had also called the angel 'brother' and _that_ was the biggest lie of them all. It is true enough that Dean loves Cas, but it is most certainly not a familial love. It is a love strong enough to fulfil the promise of a kiss in breaking a curse.

It is a _true_ love.

The very idea of feeling such a love has been terrifying to Dean since he first realised that love is not an emotion that his nomadic life can completely protect him from. His life has been one of pain and loss since the death of his mother and the thought of loving that deeply only to have it ripped away from him, as so much that he has cared about has been, is something that he has been trying to avoid for his whole life. He supposes that it should not come as a complete surprise that the one to slip into his heart that way is his friend. It is something that makes this whole transformation that much more heartbreaking.

There are words between them, three words that have been thought but remain unsaid other than when they are uttered in the dead of night when neither can hear or acknowledge them. These are words jealously guarded for fear of being hurt, kept as the deepest of secrets so that it could never be used against either party. There has been too little time to talk about what this means for them, too much uncertainty to take the risk. There is too much unspoken but too many actions taken and too little consideration for the feelings on either side.

On reflection Dean will conclude that he should have made Castiel aware of his real feelings instead of throwing words like brother and family around. Perhaps instead of threatening the angel he should have acknowledged his true fears, should have told Cas that he is so frightened of losing him it keeps him awake some nights. Instead he has hidden behind lies to protect himself, just as he always has. Still, he cannot bow down in worship of Castiel because that is not something he can believe that his friend would want. The angel he cares so much about could _never_ want that.

"You doubt me still," Castiel says softly after a moment, the serenity back in his voice and his face once again deceptively calm. It is a lie, the image of what the angel seems to feel a god should be. "After everything you have seen today, everything that I have done for you, Dean, you still allow doubt to rule over your heart." The hunter does not trust himself to respond to that, holds his tongue rather than risk angering the volatile creature in front of him. "I can see your soul now more than ever before. I see the way that it shines and I can see your love for me there. Trust in it and kneel before me in the love and devotion befitting your lord."

"It's not you," Dean blurts, "not this you with all the juice and the evil locked in there. It's the _angel_ that belongs to, Cas, _my_ angel, not whatever you are now."

"I am your _god_," the anger is beginning to show again but Dean cannot allow himself to fear it any longer. It is time to challenge his friend properly, time to try and make him see sense.

"No you're not," he insists, grief and frustration bringing the threat of tears to his eyes. He is starting to worry that his friend really is completely lost to him, that even if Castiel relinquishes this power now he will never get the real angel back and be left with a resentful shell instead. "God's a douchebag who abandoned everyone. He doesn't need replacing because we've proved that we don't need him. You don't have to do this." He takes a step forward, wincing as cracked ribs shift and send bright sparks of pain through him. "You frighten me like this, Cas, and that's not love. Please. I'm not kidding when I say that I've lost everything I ever cared about, I can't lose you too."

"You haven't lost me," Castiel's voice is almost loving and it makes Dean shudder. "I'm still here, it's simply that you cannot _see_."

"You're right, Cas, I can't," he argues and he can feel Bobby tense behind him. This is getting more and more dangerous with every second that they spend arguing. Castiel slaughtered Raphael with little more than a snap of his fingers. It would take less to put an end to the objections of the Winchesters but Dean cannot stop, will not stop. "I don't even know if this is really you talking. You've got so many souls inside you, that has to influence you somehow."

Castiel raises his hand at that, fingers poised as though to snap them all into oblivion. Then he halts, tilts his head and lowers his hand. The passive calm is firmly back in place, blue eyes sedate even as blinding fire rolls behind them.

"I forgive you, Dean," Castiel says. "Out of my love for you and the friendship we once shared, I forgive you your doubts. I will give you time to consider, to arrive at the right choice on your own. Given time, I know, you will open your heart and your mind to me, your loving lord."

Dean fervently wishes that could be the case, he wishes that he could so easily fall in worship of Castiel without the feeling of wrongness behind it. That is not the case. He has no desire to trade the friend he loves so dearly for a powerful and dangerous being. As Castiel snaps his fingers and the three men appear in Bobby's front room Dean knows that this is only the first step on a very long and very dangerous road. It is a path that he will have to follow, a course he will have to stay, if he is to have any hope of saving his friend.

"Just what the hell did you _do_, boy?" Bobby demands of him.

It is time for the absolute truth, and it is not going to be a truth that is easily shared.

_Artemis_


	2. Chapter 2

_Urgh, you have no idea how hard it is to get into Godstiel's head. I think I've managed it, possibly. I wrote the majority of this in a dark room at work, but I think it's alright to go. It's a bit shorter because I found him that difficult._

Castiel is well aware that he should not have let the Winchesters and their surrogate father out of his sight. He is even more aware that he should not have been the one to facilitate it, just as he should not have given them their lives. Sam tried to kill him, Dean lost all faith and trust in him. The Winchesters are tenacious, the fact that they successfully defeated Michael and Lucifer can attest to that, and Castiel knows that if they decide he is the enemy they will do everything that is in their limited power to stop him.

He is a god, he cannot be stopped and he cannot be killed.

He can _love_, though, love all things well and equally as a god should. There is one exception to that ideal, however, and in that Castiel is hopelessly lost and terribly blinkered. Dean Winchester is the human man Castiel loves above all other things, Dean is the one thing that Castiel would sacrifice plans for, the one thing that he thought about in all of his attempts to stop Raphael. He is the reason that so many plans were reject, abandoned or changed, and he is the reason that _this_ plan, of all of them, was the one that absolutely _had_ to succeed. Dean is the only one who can strike at Castiel's guarded heart and everything that Castiel does is done for Dean.

The newly created deity cannot comprehend why Dean does not understand that. Nor can he understand _why_, when Dean was so angry about his grace being bound by Eve, the hunter is so adamant that Castiel should not have more power, that he should deny the deity the opportunity to avoid any circumstance where he is the weaker in a situation.

Castiel already knows that Dean loves him, the true and deep kind of love that humans write and fantasise about. Castiel knows this because nothing else could have broken a curse laid upon him by an ancient and capricious god. A god Balthazar succeeded in identify but whom Castiel did not get the chance to approach and deal with. Until now.

Now would be the perfect time, he reasons, while he gives Dean time to adjust and accept Castiel as he is now. The hunter has never been good at dealing with change, after all. He is not interested in simply slaughtering Veles, an ancient trickster god of the Slavic nations, however. He also wants to _understand_. He wants to know why the ancient being was so interested in stopping Castiel, he wants to know how the creature found out in the first place. Moreover, he wants to find out who helped Veles achieve his goal since there are no ancient gods left in the world with the kind of power they would need to bind an angel's grace.

He will use this to give Dean the time to adjust to this change, to allow the human to come to him willingly. Besides, if he does not Castiel will eventually have to _force_ the issue and that is something that will cause them _both_ pain. It is not the preferable route.

He concentrates his mind, taking himself to the glade that he first met Veles in so that he can try to get a feel for the god. Now that he has this kind of power Castiel is certain that it will help him to find that pagan deity who has evaded the searches of former brethren for too long. Sunlight filters through the trees, bathing him in a mottle of light and shadows. A light breeze carries the scent of fresh water, wildflowers and grass to fill his nostrils. Under all that, however, there is something else. A feeling of old blood and primal magic. An overall sensation of wrong that rolls across Castiel and calls to something deep inside the power of the souls he has absorbed. It is clear that at least one pagan has been here, although there is a strange duality to the sensations and he wonders if a second god has been here recently, all that remains is to follow the trail that the presence has left.

"I see you went and did it, then," the cracked voice comes from behind him. Castiel does not turn to look at Veles, does not move to indicate that he has heard him at all. "Has it given you everything that you wanted, Castiel?"

"The war is ended, and I have a great deal of work to do. Your kind no longer fit with my plans for this earth," the deity informs him, staring at the figure who is so stooped he appears to almost be bent double. "I require some answers from you, nothing more."

"So you are not your Father?" Veles mocks. "I hear you claim to have replaced Him and yet your power still doesn't equal His. I have tried to teach so many and I still don't understand why you refuse to learn."

Castiel gestures and the old creature is knocked to the floor with the weight of everything that the deity has pressing down on it. Anger flows through Castiel, a need to lash out and destroy this impertinent creature which is hard to ignore. He has learnt all that he needs to know about his chosen path. He has seen who his friends and who his enemies are and he is aware that at this precise moment he is completely alone. He has no need of companions to stand at his side, however, because he is now a god.

"Who told you what I was planning?" He demands, pressing down against the god on the ground. Veles wheezes up at him, lips parted in a pained grin.

"If I tell you he'll kill me," he points out. "I'm not foolish enough to think that he could not do it."

"If you do not then your demise will be at my hands instead," Castiel replies.

"It isn't much of an incentive, angel," Veles responds and lets out an aborted cry as Castiel increases the pressure.

"Who helped you? Who gave you the power to bind me?" He releases his hold slightly, allowing Veles a moment of respite which makes the pagan chuckle.

"I was merely the conduit for the power. I don't know who gave it or where it came from. It could have been one or many. It could have been one of your own brothers for all I know, little angel, I didn't ask. My only interest was in ensuring that Eve never got out of her box."

Castiel clenches his fist, the desire to destroy the god is back a thousand fold and this time he does not ignore it. If there is nothing that Veles can give him by way of new information then there is no point in keeping the creature alive. He raises his right hand and snaps his fingers. All that remains of Veles is the chunks of blood and gore that decorate the trees around them. Castiel casts a cursory glance over his apparel, notes the blood on his trench coat with a disinterested shrug. He has other enemies to deal with and there is little point in cleaning it multiple times. He shrugs it off and goes in search of Raphael's first lieutenant.

Deep inside and buried under the weight of a hundred thousand souls, the grace and love of an angel screams.

_Artemis_


	3. Chapter 3

_Angsty day at work equals slightly angsty fic. Back to the boys and to Dean. Also, I'm slow off the mark and realised something right as I was writing this, then I realised that my plan wasn't as much of a stretch as I thought so I'm happy. Mostly._

"Just what the hell did you _do_, boy?" Bobby demands. His tone is still coloured with the fear from Castiel's transformation but there is anger there too, a great deal of it. The old hunter knows that there is something else going on here, he knows that there is something more to the betrayal that both Dean and Castiel are going through.

"I don't know what you mean," Dean tries to play it off. He is not ready yet, does not want to admit everything he feels out loud to others when he still has not told the object of them. He regrets it now, of course he does, but he also knows that the betrayal would have been that much worse had Castiel known the true depth of his feelings. Had he told Castiel just how much he loves him Dean knows that this would have shattered his soul. In this moment he suspects that it would quite possibly have killed him. He cannot lose anyone else.

"This ain't the time to play dumb!" Bobby snaps. "That crazed angel was spouting about love and I don't think he meant the brotherly kind."

Sam is slumped in the corner, his eyes dull and distant. Dean wants to worry about his brother, wants to turn all of his attention to Sam and away from Castiel for the moment so that he can worry about the sibling who means everything to him. If he is honest with himself he knows that Castiel is the more immediate threat, he has never been good at prioritising over Sam.

"You kissed him, didn't you?" Sam's voice is flat, almost as though he is trying to hold himself together and not fly into a million little pieces. If everything that Dean has been told by others holds true the hunter is certain that it is all Sam can do to stay conscious right now. It is surprising, however, that even with everything he is trying to deal with Sam has still been able to make connections between Bobby's words, Castiel's words and the events of only a few months before. Dean's silence is all that answer that the older hunter seems to need.

"For cryin' out… The angel's got his panties in a bunch because you kissed him?" Dean knows where Bobby is going with this, knows that he thinks Castiel misunderstood Dean's intentions and that is why the angel took the hunter's refusal so badly.

"No," Dean shakes his head. "I may have said a few things that I didn't mean though." There is nothing new about that. Dean is known for saying things he does not mean, known for pushing away people so that he doesn't get hurt by the people that he loves. The same applies to Castiel; Dean pushed him away because he was hurting, pushed him away so that the finding out the full extent of Castiel's betrayal would cause him less pain.

Truth of the matter is that it did not help and now all Dean can think is that he should have listened. He should have told Cas the truth so that the angel had something to hope for. He should have supported Castiel so that when the time came he did not feel like he had to keep the souls to make his point. It would be easy for him to blame himself, easy for him to think that had he been more supportive then perhaps Castiel would not have taken this path. As much as he would like to do so, however, right now Dean knows that they need to think about how to _stop_ the angel rather than who is to blame.

"We have to stop him," Sam says. "We have to find a way to kill him."

"We can't just kill him," Dean snarls. "He was our _friend__. _We have to save him."

"You can't let your feelings for him get in the way, Dean," Sam is angry, trembling, and a part of Dean understands why. After everything that Sam has been through because of Cas he has a right to be upset. "He's dangerous and the longer we leave him the worse he's going to get. How can you even _think_ about helping him after everything that he's done to us? He's been working with _Crowley_!"

"He pulled us out of _Hell_, Sam, _both_ of us! Our friend is still in there somewhere under all those souls," Dean can feel a part of him breaking away. The desperate throb and roll of his heart as he realises just how much he stands to lose here, just how bad it will be without Castiel and how hard it was to turn his back on the angel in the first place. "He's died for us! The least we can do is try and save him."

"He'd kill us in a heartbeat! You saw what he did to Raphael! He's been lying to us for a _year_, how do we even know that anything he's said to us was the truth?" The question is a reasonable one, Dean cannot deny that. Stopping Castiel is going to take something big, something unpredictable, but it will be the same if they decide to save him and Castiel knows the brothers well. He knows that they will take one of two paths and he will prepare for it. The actions that this Castiel will take may not be something that the brothers can completely predict, but he knows them well enough that they can guess.

"He'd kill us no matter what we tried," Dean sighs. "Doesn't matter if we try to save him or kill him, he'd only have to look at us to end us."

"Not necessarily," Bobby cuts in, something in his eyes that Dean does not like the look of. "He's got feelings for you, boy, we might be able to use that."

"Don't count on it," Dean grumbles. "I think I used up my only free pass."

"My, my," a soft voice says from the corner. "This is quite the mess you gentlemen have managed to get into."

Everyone turns to look at the newcomer. Tall and slender, pale skin and eyes that are slightly watery, dressed in black and with a cane that he rests one long fingered hand against. Dean recognises him instantly, you never forget a meeting with Death after all, and he turns towards him with a face like thunder.

"You knew about this," he hisses. "You knew what he was planning."

"Now, Dean, do you really believe that?" Death's tone is reasonable, but then the hunter has never known the powerful being to be anything other than reasonable. "Had I known it would have been a simple matter of reaping him to stop him. I believe I left the matter of finding out what was happening to you. If anything it is _you_ who failed to stop this."

"I'll find a way to fix it. I'll find a way to save him," Dean insists. Death looks at him appraisingly. "Look, it's about the souls, right? You want them back so if we can get him to give them up you can have them."

"You already know that he won't give them back, Dean," Death says. "We both do. He's an abomination within nature, much like you and your brother. Contrary to popular belief, I'm not in the habit of letting such things exist. I like you, however, I like your tenacity. So I will give you a chance. You have a month to get those souls out of that angel's body or I will reap him."

"That's not long enough." Dean says, he will need time, he will have to talk Sam and Bobby around to his way of thinking.

"It'll have to be," Death regards him coolly. "Oh, and Dean, ripping those souls out might well kill him anyway, and it will be painful. Is that what you want? Would it not be kinder for me to reap him quietly and painlessly?"

"No, we'll fix this." Dean wishes that the certainty in his voice were one that he could feel for himself. He wishes that he could make his family understand that he is not doing this out of a sense of guilt or misguided duty. He is doing this because he wants to see the angel he loves back in his life. He is doing this because he knows that he cannot be the one responsible for the death of Castiel. He cannot lose another person that he loves because his heart will not survive it.

If it is already broken in his chest he does not mention it, he merely concludes that maybe he does not deserve to love.

_Artemis_


	4. Chapter 4

_This one is short, but Cas went a little darker than I expected him to. I found it to be something of a struggle too, if I'm honest. I want to get back to Dean and co but I needed to get this particular point out. Plus one of my friends just had a baby so I'm not quite as angsty as I could be right now._

Castiel considers the angel kneeling in front of him. It's grace has been bound and hidden, it's face holds an expression of terrible confusion and fear. This is an angel that has never been powerless, never felt a threat to it's existence that it could not defeat. There is something satisfying in this, to hold the existence of one of his former brethren in his fists and know that there is nothing in the universe that could prevent him from snuffing out this tiny flame of grace. This is an angel that sided with Raphael, this is an angel that turned it's back on free will and the right to choose that Castiel had fought so hard for. This is an angel who tried to kill him only an hour ago.

Castiel could have simply snapped his fingers and slaughtered this one, certainly it has been considered on more than one occasion. This time, however, he decides that perhaps a more striking method should be used. There is only so many times, after all, that one can make an angel explode before it becomes less satisfying than it was before. Instead he raises his hand, palm out, and clenches it slowly. Humanised as he now is, the angel trapped in the body of a mortal male now needs to breathe. As Castiel clenches his fist the angel slowly begins to choke, short and agonising breaths being dragged in as the angel raises his other hand.

"Please," he gasps and Castiel begins to form a second fist. In one hand he can feel lungs that fight to expand, in the other a heart that stutters as it starts to fail. It does not take long for the heart to fail and the lungs to follow, does not take long for the light to go out of the angel's eyes as it passes from the universe.

The moment of satisfaction is tainted by a sorrow that he cannot place. The deity should not mourn the death of one of his enemies; it should be cause for celebration. Instead something in him refuses to feel the natural relief that another threat has been eliminated. He looks at the body at his feet, the agony of the angel's death broadcast through him to the rest of the host. Those angels who followed him have their reward, a loving leader who allows them to make their own choices so long as they do not interfere with his own plans. Those who were against him have learnt to fear him. Many have sworn allegiance to him knowing that he can see into their grace and see the truth. Liars are slaughtered instantly, others are watched closely because he is not foolish enough to trust them outright.

As an angel he was deceived too many times.

The thought of deception makes him think of Dean. It makes him think of the way that he believed the hunters words about being family, about being another brother in Dean's dysfunctional world. It makes him think about the way that Dean's soul shone with love and despair. It makes him think about the way that a part of him shattered at Dean's reaction to his alliance with Crowley and even now he cannot think of Dean's reaction to his deification without some anger. Dean has always questioned him and even now he cannot accept that this has been the right thing to do. Even now he cannot acknowledge that this world needs a god to rule and love all living things upon it.

It has been a source of great frustration to him over the last several days but he is still determined to give the human time to adjust to the idea. His love for Dean is crippling and consuming. It is a love that would make him do anything to keep the human safe and it is something that he knows he needs to change. Dean is a great weakness and as a new god he cannot afford to allow that. He will give Dean time to adapt and change but perhaps, just perhaps, he could save himself all of the trouble the hunter would cause if he simply absorbed Dean's soul and melded it with the grace that still lurks beneath the souls from Purgatory. Dean will always be safe in that place. He will never be a threat and he will never be threatened.

A part of him almost cannot wait to put this plan into action. Another part of him screams with horror but Castiel finds that piece of him easier and easier to subdue as time goes on. He thinks that perhaps this change should worry him and he knows that the old Castiel was weak. The angel loved and did not take for himself. The angel let himself be controlled and guided by the selfish needs of a single mortal man, and the angel lost everything. As far as Castiel is concerned the angel is not something that he wishes to return to being.

One of his lieutenants calls for him, informs him that another group of Raphael's followers have been found in hiding. It is news that he has been waiting to hear, this small cell being one that contains some of the more vocal angels protesting his rise to power. The capture of these individuals will hopefully cause the others to rethink their position. With luck he can end this foolish war and turn his attention back to his hunter. With luck he will be able to take Dean into his grace sooner rather than later.

He finds himself oddly eager to do so and once it is done he can resume investigations into the one who would betray him and offer aid to a pagan god.

He finds that there is too much in the way of demands on his time, now. Too many angels come to him for instructions because they do not understand free will, he finds that he is growing less and less willing to overlook the small details. Angels are not designed to make their own choices, he is realising, and though he is not eager for the apocalypse to come after everything that he has done to prevent it, he can understand why his brothers found it so hard to think of another way.

Teaching the others to understand their own ability to choose is something that Castiel will handle later on, when he is settled in his new role and sure of his position. There is still so much to do, so much to organise, and showing the others how to think for themselves is going to be highly time consuming. If he is honest it is not something that he is looking forward to.

At least, he thinks, by that time Dean will be inextricably linked to him and he will not feel as out of his depth as he once did. At least then he will feel the genuine love of the human who is the other half of him. He is so eager, now, to have that completion that it is almost like physical pain. It does not occur to him that this weakness is quite possibly the worst one of them all. It does not occur to him that such an action would be the worst one that he could possibly take.

_Artemis_


	5. Chapter 5

_I didn't think that I was going to get this out before Friday. It's my dad's fiftieth and it's going to be very messy. Not that this is anything new with my family. I also just want to say a massive thank you out to all my reviewers. You guys are all amazing and you really help to inspire me to get myself in gear with this._

Dean stares at the page in front of him, the words blurring steadily into one mass of black on white. He has not slept for several days, catching moments of sleep when his body cannot take any more. Next to him is a half empty bottle of cheap whiskey and a glass that has only the faintest trace of amber liquid in the bottom. The hunter does not even have to look for the bottle, now, simply reaching over and unscrewing the cap as he continues to stare at a page that he does not really see. He needs an answer, desperately, to the problem of yanking the souls out of Castiel and so far nothing has turned up.

"You should sleep," Sam says softly from the door. Dean rubs his hand over his eyes and sighs. "You're not going to find the answer if you're drunk and dead on your feet."

"It would go faster if you and Bobby would help," Dean grouses. Research is really not his strong point, as well his brother and friend know, and he could really use the extra help. He only has three weeks left to find the answer and on his own it is very slow going.

"Dean," Sam hesitates and his face morphs into an expression that Dean knows too well. It is an expression that warns the older man that Sam is going to say something that he really will not like and that his brother knows it. It is a face that tells him that whatever Sam is about to say it is going to hurt. "I know you want to save him but what if there's nothing left of him to be saved?"

"There's something, Sam," Dean insists as he looks back at the book. "I know there is."

"Are you sure you're not letting your own emotions influence you?" Sam asks. Dean has to stare up at him, not quite able to believe what he is hearing. "I know you care about him, but you can't beat yourself up about something he chose. You can't find something that doesn't exist."

"It exists," the certainty in his own voice is scary, a determination that he has only ever felt in relation to Sam filling him. "He got them in there and there has to be a way to get them out." Sam stares at him for a long moment and then shakes his head.

"Alright," Sam pulls another face, the kind that shows he is exasperated but going to humour his brother this time. "Get some sleep and I'll help you tomorrow, okay?"

Dean stares hard at his brother, gauging just how serious Sam is, and his gaze is only broken when a massive yawn bursts out of him. His brother's smile is pointed and Dean is forced to concede to it. He is exhausted and the words have simply ceased to make any sense as he reads them. As much as he needs and wants to find the answer to saving Cas, he cannot go much longer with minimal sleep and only whiskey and the odd meal that appears at his elbow to keep going. He has to rest and perhaps some form of inspiration will strike him as he does so.

When he gets to the spare room, however, he finds that his mind is going a mile a minute. He cannot seem to stop thinking, cannot seem to stop worrying, about his angel. He strips down to his boxers and t-shirts and slides between well used sheets. Unlike the over starched and scratchy sheets in the motels the brothers frequent these are soft and he takes a moment to luxuriate in it. The bed may be a little old and creaky, and the mattress may be a little bit lumpy, but it is nicer than his usual fair and the pleasure that he feels at that makes him feel guilty. He should be sleeping or finding a way to help Cas, not enjoying himself.

The thought worms his way from the back of his mind to the front, making his stomach twist viciously. Dean is not a man who deals with emotion well, no matter what that emotion is, and this time is not an exception. His feelings for Castiel are almost crippling, both the despair and the love, his sense of inadequacy at the way he dealt with the angel is powerful, causing him to constantly second guess every thought and every conversation with the angel that he has had over the last year. He keeps on wondering if he could have seen the point at which Castiel crossed that line if he had just been paying a little bit more attention. He keeps wondering if he could have noticed that Cas needed more help than Dean had offered if he had not allowed himself to be blinded by his own problems.

Looking back on it he knows that he could not have. He was aware that Castiel was acting strangely, there was no way that he could not be, but it was nothing so obvious that he could have guessed or stepped in. Shifty behaviour, certainly, but nothing obvious until it was too late to stop it. He sighs and sits up, swinging around so that his feet are flat on the floor and he can rest his elbows on his knees.

"What happened to you, Cas?" He whispers to the night air. "Why didn't you come to us in the first place?" These are questions that he has not dared to ask out loud, questions that he feared the answer to and so did not let himself put a voice to at a time when it would have been the best to ask them. A time when he was terrified of being told that he simply is not good enough for the angel.

Which is what so much of this boils down to, the thought that Cas did not come to him because Dean is not good enough to help out. It lets other thoughts filter through, other doubts and other sources of pain. It makes him wonder if this is not the only thing that Castiel does not think he is good enough for. It makes him wonder if the angel ever considered that Dean does not deserve to be loved by him. That thought is the one that he finds the most terrifying. The one thought that follows him as he lies down again, follows him into broken dreams and a restless night, is that Castiel does not want to be able to love him.

He wakes feeling worse than he did when he went to sleep and he knows that he looks it. He finally gets up at six, unable to face the images and the doubts on his own any longer. Sam is already in the study when Dean gets there, his head pillowed on his arms as he sleeps over the same books he pushed the older hunter into abandoning. He shakes his head and goes into the kitchen. His mouth tastes like old carpet and he could use a shower, but before that he needs to kick start his brain. The coffee that he makes is not the best he has ever had, Bobby tends to buy cheap and strong, but it is enough to draw Sam out of the study and the give his brain the jump start that it needs.

"Find anything?" He asks, picking up the milk. He sniffs it and pulls a face at the sour smell, setting it aside in favour of simply drinking his coffee as it comes. Sam does the same, although his expression states rather eloquently that he would rather be drinking ditch water than the swill in his hand at the moment. Dean would agree, except that he needs this so that he can get back to trying to find a way to help his angel.

Which is what Castiel will always be, he realises, no matter what happens now. Castiel will always be his angel and Dean owes him too much to give up on him. For the first time he starts to understand that maybe Sam knows they do too.

_Artemis_


	6. Chapter 6

_It's gone midnight and I'm still awake. That's what comes of going to a charity auction in Starbucks where they ply you with caffeine instead of alcohol. I put a lot of bids in but only won one item. The guys there all think I'm nut because I was bidding on so much but it's a charity close to my heart and set up after the death of a family friend. Well worth my money I think. Also, there is a reference to Stargate in here. Anyone who spots it gets a virtual Sam, Dean or Cas of their choice. _

Castiel looks over his army, angels all ready and waiting to do his bidding. It is thrilling to have this kind of power, to know that so many are waiting to spread his word and begin to call humanity to his name. He is not a fool, of course, he knows that many of these angels follow him out of fear. He also knows that eventually they will attempt to betray him with no idea of the power that he really possesses. A part of him looks forward to that day so that he can show them the true meaning of godhood and of mercy. The rest of him just views the prospect of having to deal with them as a waste of time and energy. There are things that he would much rather be doing.

It is with a few words that he sends them out to start spreading the words, to start the miracles in his name, and he is free to do as he will for a short while. It is these moments of freedom that he most enjoys. He is learning now that ruling over all of Heaven is hard work; that the angels really do need to be led rather than simply left to their own devices. After all, the apocalypse was started by archangels who were tired of ruling in God's absence.

In these moments of peace Castiel allows himself to indulge in the one thing that he desires above all others. He allows himself to look in on Dean all unseen. Castiel knows that the hunter still believes that he needs saving, just as he knows that Dean will never believe the reverse no matter how many times it is proved otherwise, and he does not understand why Dean does not see this power as a good thing.

When Dean sleeps Castiel will slip into his dreams to watch. Often the hunter's dreams are troubled, nights of remembering Hell or any number of hunts gone wrong. How he reacts to those dreams depends on the mood of the deity at the time. Sometimes he will soothe those images and leave Dean with warm sunlit days on a pier that juts into a lake with no fish in it even though Dean insists on having a rod to maintain the illusion. When Castiel is angry or frustrated he will leave the nightmares as they are because a piece of him believes that these are the key to bringing Dean to his side. Those nights are far fewer because even after ten days of obsessing over the idea of joining Dean's soul and his grace Castiel cannot bring himself to allow Dean to suffer over much. Dean is his beloved, his chosen one, and he has already suffered much in his life.

It is strange to still feel compassion for the man after everything that they have been through the last several months and all the changes that Castiel has been through.

Other times Castiel will slip into Dean's dreams and he will see other things. He has been doing this since the curse on him was broken all those months ago and he has seen much in that time. It has been both fascinating and terrifying. Some nights the dreams have been a source of great hope and others of despair. Nights of thinking that he is enough for Dean and others of worrying that he can never be what Dean needs. As a god he now believes that he is everything that Dean has never known he has ever wanted.

Some nights he sees images of simple friendship, two men sat at a table or on a bench with a drink. Both lean towards each other, whether resting against the back of the bench or with elbows on the table before them, their body language stating that they are close and intimate friends at the very least. There is little conversation between them, the odd word that passes their lips unbidden and without thought to break a silence that is both comfortable and profound. They do not need to speak because everything that has to be said has been and it is clear in the way that they look at each other. This is the way that Dean prefers to do things, without words and only with the emotions that his jade eyes betray. Those are eyes that Castiel can still get lost within and it is a gaze that he still finds it hard to break away from.

Other nights the images are something else entirely, images of naked bodies and of sweat. Of flesh on flesh and hard gasps and rough moans. This is a time of words whispered into skin and images that leave Castiel aching for something he has never before experienced. Dean clinging tightly to Castiel, both in a male vessel and in a female one, as he whispers prayers and promises and the dream of an angel responds with words of love and devotion. These dreams are everything that Dean will never say and has never been able to show. These are the ones that Castiel flees in confusion because the responses they elicit in him are strange and a little overwhelming. Even as a god he finds them harder to comprehend.

The dreams that concern him the most are of the female form he took for those cursed nights. He sees dreams of her in a white dress and Dean in a suit, of them standing together in front of a priest and taking vows of love and eternal partnership. He sees Dean dream of children and a house, sees the hunter dream of contentment found in family. He sees these dreams of something that Dean has only ever touched briefly but that the hunter as desired for most of his life. These are dreams of having something in a true reality with Castiel that the hunter was never able to have completely with Lisa. These are the dreams that have always made Castiel believe that he will never be enough for the mortal. Those are the dreams that make him want to meld Dean with his grace before the time is right.

There is a perfect timing, Castiel knows, for mixing his grace with Dean's soul. There is one day above all others when the link and the bond between them will be at its strongest. He knows that Dean will have felt it at some point, whether the man knows it or not, because it only happens on one day each year.

It only happens on the anniversary of the day that Castiel breathed life back into Dean's bones.

On this day each year the pull between grace and soul is at its strongest. On this day each year it is all that Castiel can do not to run to Dean's side and try to crawl inside him. It is too far away, however, so many months to wait when all that the newly created deity wants to do it take the man as a part of himself. On the day in the future when Dean's soul is open to him it will be easy to force the bond, to meld soul and grace without Dean being able to resist it. To do it sooner would be difficult but not impossible.

It all comes down to whether or not he can wait that long. Castiel _craves_ Dean and he is not certain if that comes down to love or obsession. What he does know is that an eternity without the hunter is a less than appealing idea and that having Dean joined with him for all of time is the one thing that occupies the majority of his thoughts. This obsession could well be his downfall, he knows, but somehow that hardly seems to matter. Somehow all that is important is ensuring that he has Dean as close to him as is possible.

Until then he will continue to look in on Dean's dreams and watch over the hunter from the shadows unseen. Castiel has to know his movements above all other things, because when the time comes he does not want to be chasing Dean around the world. When the time comes to take Dean's soul he wants everything to go as smoothly as possible.

_Artemis_


	7. Chapter 7

_So some of this was written during a two hour long skype conversation with Punky and Lisa, I swear those two are feeding my muse something. Moving the plot on a little bit now, and I've got a very full weekend so I'm not making any promises about the next update._

Dean rubs at his temple as he stares down at the book in front of him. There is nothing here, nothing to help and nothing to even _hint_ at how he is going to get his angel back. It comes as no surprise to him that it takes losing his angel to realise just how much Cas really does mean to him. The evidence of a broken curse does not have the same kick as the loss of a friend. What _is_ a surprise is that Castiel's transformation has hit him this hard. Everything that Dean has is going into finding a way to save his friend and the hunter is not entirely certain how much he has left in him. So much has happened to him over the last seven years that he is amazed he is still going as it is.

Everything that Dean once had, everything he has and everything that could have been seems to be lost to him and he is coming to think that it is all because of his actions and his choices. Everything has become an endless litany of 'what if'. Everything is a question that he cannot possibly answer and a solution that he cannot find.

What if he had never gone to Lisa? What he if he had manned up and confessed the depth of his feelings to Cas with words rather than a few desperate kisses? What if he had not pushed Cas away but supported him instead? Over the years Cas has done so much for him and one of the few times that the angel asked for his help and support the hunter let him down and pushed him away. The questions are frustrating, it is not like asking them is going to change anything about this whole mess. All he is doing is increasing how bad he feels about it all.

"You know," a familiar voice says, "he was never supposed to _keep_ the bloody things."

Dean looks up to see Crowley leaning in the doorway, calm and seemingly self-assured. Something rather like a growl erupts from the hunter's throat, the man now painfully aware that he is alone in the house, and he lunges for the demon. Crowley jumps to one side with a muttered oath, grabbing at the hunter's collar and slamming him against the wall with that same inhuman strength all demons have.

"Now is that any way to treat someone who wants to help you save the world?" Crowley's tone is reasonable but there is a fear there that even Dean can detect.

"It's a mess that _you_ helped to make," Dean hisses, wriggling against Crowley's grip.

"A small detail," Crowley shrugs it off, "most of the orders I heard from him was to leave you two morons alone. Got to wonder if it wasn't _you_ rejecting him that pushed the bugger over the edge." The demon releases him with a sneer. "It's painfully obvious to anyone with _eyes_ that he's obsessed with you," he pauses. "Well, obvious to everyone but _you_ anyway."

"What do you _want_, Crowley?" Dean demands. Mentally he is thinking about what weapons he has in the house and how best to trap the demon until he can reach one and make use of it.

"I'm here to make a deal," Crowley must see the anger in Dean's eyes because he holds up a hand. "Hear me out. Castiel being all god-like is bad for business; it's got all my minions running scared. All I want from you and the moose is cooperation. I know how to get those souls out and I can give that information to you."

"Really?" Dean cocks an eyebrow. "What's in it for you?" He is naturally suspicious of anything to do with the demon. The hunter has learnt his lesson about Crowley and he is not going to make a deal with the new king of Hell; even if it _is_ to save Cas.

"Not getting wiped off the face of the universe would be a start," Crowley replies. "This sort of information doesn't come for free."

"Then do it yourself," Dean snaps.

"I knew you were dense, Dean," Crowley sighs, "but even you can't be this stupid. The first thing that deranged lunatic will do when he sees me is blow me into a million itty bitty pieces. _You_ on the other hand…"

"He let you go, didn't he?" Dean asks, deep down he knows why Castiel let him leave with Sam and Bobby, he knows that the newly formed deity did it because some part of him still loves the hunter, but he has not figured out why he let the demon leave.

"I ran for the hills, Winchester, I wasn't going to stick around knowing that once he was done with Raphael Cas was going to come after me."

It is actually a reasonable point, but Dean is not going to admit to that. At this moment all that the hunter wants to do is run Crowley through with the demon killing blade. There is just one problem with that: Dean is not absolutely certain it would work. He is not absolutely certain that Crowley is the simple high rising demon that he claims to be and that could throw something of a spanner in the works if the knife does not work. Besides, Dean is getting desperate to find an answer to saving Castiel. The deadline of the end of the month is getting closer, Death is going to reap Castiel soon if Dean cannot find an answer, and there is another problem that he has not discussed with Sam or Bobby.

Cas is visiting Dean when he dreams.

The hunter could not be certain at first because he has dreamt of Castiel so many times in the past that sometimes it is hard to tell which the dream is and which is the one visiting him. It is confusing and heart breaking and he wishes that he could stop it. He wishes that he knew of a way to keep this new and terrifying version of Cas out of his mind and out of his dreams. Those are not dreams of a deity, those are images of an angel Dean is trying to come to terms with loving and that is something that the new Castiel has no right to see.

It is not easy, knowing that he is in love with an angel in a male body. It is something that Dean has struggled to acknowledge to even himself, let alone mention to Bobby and Sam before Castiel released them back to this house to think about whether or not they were going to bow in front of him in worship and love. Dean has wondered a few times if there is a way to show Castiel that the love he feels for the angel could be a form of worship.

"You want us as bait," Dean says it out loud as he comes to the conclusion himself. Crowley claps sarcastically, every line of his face set in a bitter smirk.

"Well done," Crowley moves away, walking quickly out of arms reach. "You distract him, I'll rip out the souls."

"And then what?" Dean knows that cannot possibly be the entire plan, he knows that Crowley will have something else up his sleeve.

"And then _I_ get the souls."

"No," even the thought of the demon having all of that power makes Dean break out into a cold sweat. There might only be one way to free Cas from their influence, and that might lie with this demon, but Dean is absolutely certain that he is not going to trade one false god for another. "Those souls are going back where they belong."

"No souls, no deal," Crowley's smile is almost benign, he knows that he has Dean over a barrel and there is little more that the hunter can do about this. Dean needs a plan, needs to talk to Sam and Bobby, because he already knows that deals with a demon can never end well.

Besides, he is not sure he wants to become that kind of hypocrite.

_Artemis_


	8. Chapter 8

_I may have cried while I was writing this one. I don't know if that's because of the music I was listening to, the conversation that happened or a combination of the two. Either way, the theme to this whole fic appears to be the majority of Within Temptation's music because they seem to have a track for every type of angst I'm looking for. _

Crowley's visit leaves Dean feeling cold and hopeless. The hunter has no desire to end up once again tied to the demon's whims and orders. He has made the mistake of dealing with the servants of Hell too many times in recent years and he will not do it again. Almost all of worst mistakes have involved demons in one way or another; even this situation with Castiel can be linked with demons and Dean still has a hard time accepting that Cas was really _that_ desperate.

Telling Bobby and Sam about his encounter with Crowley does not exactly make him feel any better either. Over the last few weeks Sam has been struggling to appear his normal self, fighting against nightmares that he does not want Dean to know he is having. Searching for a way to stop Castiel is something that he has been clinging to and Dean does not want to take that away from him but somehow it is not enough to keep all the memories at bay anymore. He has no idea what he will do if his brother breaks down completely.

"Please, Cas," Dean whispers to the night sky as he stares out of the window of the room he is sharing with Sam. He has just woken his brother from a particularly violent nightmare and his cheek is still throbbing where Sam lashed out. He hates to see Sam like this, to see the flood of hellish memories gradually taking their toll as sleep becomes harder and harder to come by. He hates to see the empty bottles next to his brother's bed as Sam consumes more and more in an attempt to knock himself out. "Please, please fix him. You promised you'd fix him."

Dean is desperate, desperate enough to ask Castiel for help even though the angel is not himself. He has lost so much, is losing so much, and all he wants is one thing for himself. All is wants is something in his life to go as it is meant to and not as some part of a cosmic punishment for all the crimes of humanity. He does not realise that he has spoken the words aloud until he feels the weight of another presence in the room.

"You call upon me not so that you can profess your love unto me, but to treat me once more as a lackey at your every beck and call," Castiel's words are cold, flat with an anger that the self-made deity does not seem able to fully express. "Have you learned _nothing_? I could destroy you with little more than a thought, Dean, and still you try to give me orders stemming from no more than your selfish whims and petty needs!"

"I'm not asking for this for _me_, Cas!" Dean hisses as he turns from the window to look at the super-charged angel. "I'm asking you to _fix_ the mess you made! I'm asking you to give my brother back his life, you _owe_ him that much."

"I owe him nothing, just as I owe _you_ nothing."

"You did this to him, Cas, he doesn't sleep right anymore, he's not eating and he's drinking himself unconscious every night. You brought those memories back, you broke the wall. All I'm asking you to do is keep the promise you made! All I want you to do is fix him like you said you would!" Dean allows his frustration to get the better of him, he lets it push him into shouting at Castiel and trying to stare down the creature as he once would have done his friend. It makes him forget, for just a moment, that this is not the friend that he has lost.

"Yet it has taken you nearly four weeks to notice it, Dean, four weeks to see your brother's suffering and act to try and stop it," Castiel's words slice into the hunter. He is right, of course, it _has_ taken Dean far too long to notice. The hunter's only excuse is that he was more focused on finding a way to help Castiel than he was on the problems Sam has been experiencing. It is not something that he will admit to.

"I didn't want it to get to this," Dean mumbles, "I didn't want to have to come to you. I'm desperate, Cas, please help him."

Dean hates the way that begging makes him feel. He hates the bitter taste that it leaves on his tongue and the way that his stomach rolls. He hates the triumphant look in Castiel's eyes and the way that the cold façade of a deity slips for a moment to be replaced with something so black it makes the hunter's heart twist. It is the final nail in the coffin, the final hint that he has lost the friend that he loves so very dearly.

Castiel stares at him, that same stare that makes Dean feel like he is trying to look into the hunter's soul. It is an expression he has not seen on the lost angel's face for a long time and it hurts to look at it. Instead he keeps his thoughts and emotions as neutral as he can, lets only his concern for his brother float to the surface. It is better that Cas not know that Dean is on the edge of cracking, better that he not know that there might be a way to save him from all of these souls.

"Your faith in me is a step in the right direction, Dean," Castiel says suddenly, slipping back behind the quiet mask of a kindly god. "I can see that I was right to allow you some time to adjust to this change in my position." It is all that Dean can do not to attempt to shatter that illusion as Castiel reaches a hand out and brushes cool fingers against the hunter's cheek. It is all the man can do not to flinch away. "You're not ready yet, I can see that, beloved, but soon you will be. I know that you will want Sam safe and well when the time comes, so I shall heal his mind though he has done little to deserve it."

Dean is frozen, his eyes wide with confusion and a fear he dare not admit to. He does not understand what Castiel's words mean, does not understand what it is that the lost angel is preparing for, only that it is going to be something terrible, something that Dean could never come close to forgiving him for. He watches, instead, as Castiel approaches Sam's unconscious form, brushing hair from the younger man's forehead in an almost tender gesture.

"You tried to kill me, Sam," he hears Cas whisper, "but I am a forgiving and loving god. I do not back out of my promises. I free you from your memories," fingers press to Sam's temples, sinking through flesh and bone and yet the younger man does not move, does not flinch, "I have undone the damage that my brothers did to you." He steps away from Sam, who now appears to be sleeping peacefully. "He will rest for a day and wake a new man," Cas assures the hunter and Dean wishes that he could simply accept those words. "Do you see, now? Do you see why it is better that I keep these souls and become the god that this Earth needs so badly?"

"I can't, Cas, you know I can't," Dean has tears in his eyes and for the first time he is not ashamed to let someone other than his brother see them. "I know you're still in there, the real you, I hate the thought of losing him to whatever it is that you're becoming."

Castiel stares at him, blue eyes flat with rage and anger that Dean does not believe belongs to the being in front of him. If there were ever a time that the hunter was certain that the souls inside the vessel were influencing the grace and mind of his friend this is it. The anger is inhuman, even beyond that which he has seen Castiel display in the past. It makes him fear that even Castiel's earlier words about love will not be enough to save the hunter this time.

"You are fortunate that I have plans for you, Dean, plans that rely on your being _alive_. I will not tolerate such behaviour from you for much longer, however. Soon you will bow before me and offer yourself out of love and obedience, or I will _take_ from you that which I desire." Dean takes a step back, a defiant refusal dying on his lips as Castiel looks at Sam with a calculating eye. "I've returned your brother to you as a gift, a sign that my affection for you has not been altered by recent events. It is done for _you_, Dean, as so many of the actions I have taken have been."

Castiel is gone in a moment, leaving Dean alone with his slumbering brother and a heart that lies shattered and still in his chest. They need whatever information it is that Crowley has, they need to get it out of him somehow or find a monster out there who will help them. Castiel's words to Dean have left the hunter in fear of his own life and that is something that he would never have associated with Cas in the past.

He only hopes that this determination does not come too late.

_Artemis_


	9. Chapter 9

_This chapter was also written while listening to Within Temptation's most recent album, mostly A Demon's Fate and Fire and Ice on repeat because those songs seem to fit this fic disturbingly well. Although everything that group has ever written seems to fit Supernatural in some way shape or form and I don't know if it's just my brain or not._

_Also, I appear to have written myself into a trilogy but can't think of a title for the next fic. Suggestions are most welcome._

Sam is not angry that the memories of Hell have once again been locked behind a fragile wall, he is not even angry that Dean had it done without asking first. Sam is angry because Dean went to Castiel to ask for help. Sam is angry because Dean turned to the one creature that they are supposed to be finding a way to stop and asked him to use the power they want to take from him to fix a mess he had made.

The younger hunter supposes that he can be grateful that there is still enough of the angel that cared for them left to agree to keep his promise.

Now that he is not struggling to hold back a flood of memories that threaten to leave him a broken wreck Sam can see just how badly everything with Castiel is getting to Dean. He can see the dark circles under his brother's eyes for what they are; hours of research day and night to find a way to save their friend. He is not stupid, Sam knows that Dean's feelings for Castiel run far deeper than simple friendship, he has known that for a long while. In actual fact Sam suspects that he was aware of that fact long before Dean, long before the curse that turned Cas into a woman.

It has never bothered him, the idea that Dean could be in love with a man or even an angel, all that the younger brother has ever wanted is for the elder to be happy. Had he been able to read Cas better in the past he would never have suggested that Dean go to Lisa, he would have asked the angel to stay and take care of Dean. He regrets that now, regrets not asking Castiel to look after his brother in a time when the older man needed someone who understood everything that he had been through. He wonders if pushing Dean towards Lisa was the final misdirection for the angel, he wonders if that false happiness is the reason that Cas never came to them for help.

Certainly, Sam thinks, it would have been a different two years if he had not directed Dean to Lisa. Even had Cas made the same mistake when pulling him from the pit it would have been noticed and corrected sooner. Perhaps this whole mess with Purgatory would never have happened. It is a dangerous path to be on, the path of questions and self-doubt, and it is normally something that Dean would do. It has been a long time since Sam has looked back on a choice that he has made and wondered if it was the right thing to do.

Besides, there is plenty about his recent interactions with Castiel that Dean has not told them. Sam knows that something self-created deity has said to his brother has disturbed him. He knows that Castiel and Dean would have talked about more than just the state of his mind. Dean would not have passed up the opportunity to try and talk Cas out of keeping all the souls of Purgatory for himself. He also knows that at the moment the last thing that Castiel wants to do is give them up.

It is times like this when Sam wishes that they had a greater connection to Heaven, times like this when he wishes that Gabriel and Balthazar were still around so that he could ask them to help out. He very much doubts that even they would have an answer to ripping the souls out of such a super charged being, but it would be nice to have the back up all the same.

So far all they have is an offer from Crowley, an offer that involved being allowed to absorb those same souls and thus create an all-powerful demon. That is absolutely the last thing that they want, a demon with all that power. Castiel may be bad enough, slaughtering his way through all opposition in Heaven and threatening Dean with obliteration if they do not bow to him, but at least he is interested in saving the world for the time being. Crowley would simply recreate his idea of Hell on Earth and there would be absolutely nothing that they could do to stop him.

In a way Sam thinks that it would be better to let Death and Castiel have it out. He thinks that it would be better to allow Death to reap their friend than rely on information that Crowley is not going to willingly give them. At least that way the world would be safe from both beings and they could go back to some semblance of normalcy, or as normal as it gets for the Winchesters. Dean has lost so much in his life, however, that Sam can understand his need to have someone to cling to. Sam can understand that Dean wants to love and be loved and he can see how Castiel could be that person. Whether Dean has really noticed it or not, Sam knows that much of what Cas has done in the last several years has been done with Dean in mind. In a way it is sweet, although Sam knows that an obsessive behaviour like that could become dangerous. It _has_ become dangerous.

Their deadline for finding an answer is fast approaching. In only a few days Death will come for Castiel and Sam will have to watch Dean fall apart all over again. It makes him want to scream at an unfeeling universe. Dean has given up so much and Sam knows that he deserves more. All of them do; Bobby, Dean and himself, but Dean has sacrificed where he and Bobby have had their dreams ripped from them.

If he had the guts, Sam would call Castiel here and tell him all of this. He would call his friend to his side and explain in detail just how much this is hurting Dean, he would explain just how badly Dean deserves to have a friend and a love that he can trust completely. He would explain how these constant betrayals by the people in his life are cutting into every aspect of the hunter's self-worth until all Sam sees in a man who questions everything that he has and everything that he desires. Calling Castiel is out of the question, he does not know if Cas will come for a start and he does not know how the powerful being will react if he does.

Castiel is dangerous, now, and without a way to restrain or destroy him there is no way that Sam will risk confronting him. It is already clear that Cas does not place the value on Sam's life that he does Dean's. Given the way Castiel claims that he feels about Dean that fact is hardly a surprise.

Sam glances at his brother, Dean's eyes are red with sleepless nights and his hand shakes as he reaches for the mug of coffee at his side. The older man is nearly at the end of his tether and the younger wishes that there were more that he could do. The last month of heavy drinking and sleepless nights has left him wiped, however, and barely able to spend more than a few hours awake at a time before he slips back into a doze.

He slips into a light sleep between one thought and the next and is woken by both an idea and a voice.

"It's time, Dean," his eyes flash open to confirm what his ears have already told him. Castiel stands in front of his brother and Dean is simply staring up at him with an expression that breaks Sam's heart. It is an expression that is one of hopelessness and desperation. An expression that tells the younger man that his brother is about to do something very stupid in order to keep him safe. "You cannot stop me, Sam." Castiel does not look back at him before he brushes his fingers over Dean's forehead. Then they are both gone and Sam is left with only his desperate idea and no clue of how to execute it.

He needs to find Crowley and agree to his terms. First, however, he needs to find some way of contacting Death.

_I still find it hard to write Sam, by the way._

_Artemis_


	10. Chapter 10

_My longest chapter yet, and it's the final one of this part. I'll probably come back at a later date and edit it a little bit more, but I wanted to get it out tonight because I'm seriously busy the rest of this weekend and it needs finishing._

_Once again thank you to everyone who's read, all the alerters and most importantly my reviewers. Every review brings a smile to my face._

Dean looks up from his book as he feels the air in the room shift and the presence of another in front of him. Castiel's eyes are bright, were he human Dean would say he looked feverish, and there is a manic cast to his face. It is enough to make worry and fear flash through him. This is the Cas that Dean has feared the emergence of. This is the Cas who will take what he wants and damn the consequences and the people he hurts in the process.

"What do you want, Cas?" He asks, just because he is going to go relatively quietly does not mean that he is not going to take that one last chance.

"It's time, Dean," Castiel tells him. His voice is oddly gentle, but there is an impatience there that Dean has heard before. His eyes flicker to Sam as his brother stirs on the sofa, waking from one of his worryingly frequent naps to look at them both. Castiel, it seems, has noticed his return to wakefulness as well. "You cannot stop me, Sam," he informs the younger Winchester and Dean does not have a chance to move away before he feels the gentle brush of Castiel's fingers against his forehead.

Travel by angel airways is no less disorientating now as it has been in the past. It is the sickening twist of land and scenery and the sensation of being squeezed through a series of too small holes and cramped tunnels. It churns his stomach and it takes a great deal of effort not to lose the contents on the dirty stone floor he finds under his feet.

The building is familiar, as it should be, it is the same building that Dean first met Castiel in. The walls are still covered in the same symbols designed to trap and protect against every creature known to man. Except one. Except angels.

He looks around him, taking in the way that the doors still hang a little on their hinges from the angel's dramatic entrance and the rickety tables that he and Bobby used for their preparations before summoning him. It brings how much Cas has really changed into focus. Castiel is no longer that emotionless angel who was permanently baffled by Dean's disbelief and lack of trust. Cas is something else, now, something that the hunter cannot understand and that frightens him. He tries not to let that fear show, however, trying to keep a cocky smirk on his face as he looks at the creature he once called friend.

"So what, exactly, is it time for, Cas?" He asks and the smile that Castiel give his is predatory and mad.

"It is time for us to join in the deepest and most profound way," which sounds wrong on so many levels, Dean concludes, but he doubts that Castiel means it in that way. "It will mean an end to all your doubts and nothing shall ever separate us." Cas snaps his fingers and the tables shift, ropes coiling around them to form bonds and a horrible suspicion starts to filter through Dean's mind.

"Kinky," he grins, all false bravado and stalling tactics that Castiel will see through without thought, "I didn't know you were into bondage." Castiel throws him a black look. "Seriously, though, don't I get a say in this forever thing?"

"I already know what you will say, Dean."

"Alright, so what I want means nothing?" He thinks that it is a valid question, sees from the way that the serenity of a god slips from Castiel's face that his former friend thinks so as well.

"I never know _what_ you want, Dean," for the first time in too long the hunter sees something of his angel, sees the genuine confusion and anguish of a being that is not entirely sure it is doing the right thing. Dean has to wonder how he managed to miss the significance of that expression so many times. "Sometimes I think you say you want something because that is what you believe they want to hear you say."

"I still want you to give up the souls, Cas," Dean mutters. "That hasn't changed."

"Is that what you really want?" Castiel asks, the angel slowly starting to melt away again and the cold deity re-emerging.

"You know how I feel about God," Dean replies, "we've done fine without him and we don't need a new one. I just want you back."

"Which me? The angel? The woman? The human? Is there any form of me that you could truly be content with, Dean?" Castiel is cold again, eyes calculating and distant.

"Just you," Dean whispers, "whichever you that you feel you should be."

For the first time since the kiss they shared in Bobby's kitchen Dean reaches for Castiel. He touches trembling fingers to his friend's cheek and feels the rough scrape of a five o'clock shadow. Castiel is so cold and distant, he does not even lean into the touch as Dean had hoped that he would. He simply watches with barely a flicker of emotion, barely anything to indicate that he has even felt the hunter's touch.

"This is who I should be," Castiel lowers Dean's hand to his side with a gentleness that is out of place. "When we are joined you will see all the reasons for it. My thoughts will be yours and yours will be mine. We will not be able to hide from each other anymore. We will not be able to hurt each other again."

There is another snap and Dean finds himself bound to the tables, rope tight enough to make it impossible for him to work his way free but not so tight that it causes him pain. The hunter turns his head so that he can watch his friend approach, watch the way that he slowly removes his ever present trench coat, blazer, shirt and tie with each step. It is strange to see Cas without the ill-fitting clothes, strange to see the expanse of pale skin that once belonged to a man and is now all Castiel's own.

"Peace," Castiel whispers, smoothing a hand across Dean's forehead. "There will be pain but it will be of but a moment and soon forgotten." The hunter knows that his friend thinks these words will be reassuring, but all he finds in them is a source of fear and dread.

"Look, Cas, can we talk about this? I want to know what I'm getting into here." He tries to reason with Castiel even though he knows how futile that is. That single glimpse of the angel he once called friend, the sign that the angel he loves is still in there somewhere, has shown him how urgent it is that he appeals to that piece of untainted grace. It makes him want to save Cas from himself even more.

"There is nothing left that needs to be said, Dean," Castiel tells him. "All that is required has been done and all the necessary declarations have been made. We shall be as one, my beloved, for all of eternity. You need never fear being alone again." For someone both socially and emotionally stunted Castiel can still sometimes surprise the hunter with how keenly he sees into every insecurity that makes the hunter who he is. "Everything that I have done these last years has been in your name; don't you think that it is time you did something for me?"

Dean has no answer for that, remains silent and continues to struggle with his restraints. Truth be told if Castiel asked it there is very little that he would _not_ do. _This_ is one of those things that the hunter would refuse to do, he would rather have some measure of control over his own destiny. He is opening his mouth to respond when a new voice fills the room, Latin dripping out in an accent that he knows does not belong to Sam or Bobby. In actual fact it sounds rather like Crowley's voice and he finds himself half praying that his brother has not been that stupid.

"You!" Castiel turns from Dean and the hunter can see him raise his hand to obliterate the demon. It is an action that the angel does not get to take because he is on his knees in a moment, grey light seems to filter and bubble from every pore in the flesh of his vessel. It is blinding, so bright that Dean has to clamp his eyes shut and wishes that he had his hands free so that he could cover his ears and block out the agonised screams that tear from his friend's throat. Dimly he is away that he is shouting Castiel's name, but whether it is heard over the chants and the screams he does not know.

When silence falls and the light has become little more than purple spots that dance in his eyes Dean finally risks opening them. Crowley is examining his hand, flexing it with a kind of morbid fascination that tells the hunter that his is very not good.

"Fascinating," the demon comments, looking at Castiel's prone form on the dirty floor. "I can see why you wanted to keep them."

If there is more that the demon wants to say the words are lost to eternity in another explosion of light. A wave of energy passes over Dean, threatening to make him lose consciousness and it is only sheer force of will that keeps him awake.

"It is done," Death says and Dean sees Sam step through the door. "The souls are back where they belong and I will ensure that Purgatory is never used in this manner again. You kept your side of the bargain, Sam, Dean could learn a lot from you."

Sam waits until Death is gone before he unties his brother and those are the longest few moments of Dean's life. On the one hand he wants to shake Sam and demand to know why he would be so stupid and risk handing the ultimate power to Crowley. On the other he just wants to go to Castiel and see if he is alright. He wants to go to his angel and try to find a way to make this right again.

"Let's take him back to Bobby's," Sam says when Cas wins the internal debate and Dean half collapses at his side. "We'll need somewhere to contain him if he wakes up."

"He'll wake up," Dean replies and he believes that, he really does, because he thinks that if he does not he will go slowly mad.

_Fin._

_The final part of the trilogy will be up within the week. It's titled First Time and huge thanks out to VitaliaSteele for all your suggestions. They were so helpful to me (as you can see from my title choice.) Hopefully see you at the next one. _

_Artemis_


End file.
